today's post was written by me, but Kathleen edited it and added her thoughts...
First Christmas.
I have written before that Kathleen comes from a family that does not celebrate Christmas the same way my family did. Kathleen’s family eschews the tree and Santa, focusing instead on the nativity—because it’s the right way. When Kat and I were dating, I had no issues with this and allowed her to choose her own way to celebrate—hrmph…like he had a choice…
Then after we were engaged, at her request, I elected to try and incorporate some of my family traditions with hers—I really do not remember this request happening. So on the Friday before finals week, when I knew I was leaving town in a few days, I borrowed a mini tree from Tammy, Tammy, Tracy, and Leanne because they had a bigger tree in their apartment—I can only imagine if he’d borrowed the bigger tree. I decorated this mini tree with ornaments and garland made from black and white beads that Kathleen had for crafting purposes—thief. I used a black and white faux Chanel scarf of Kathleen’s like a tree skirt.
Then I made a beef and tomato soup, basically can of tomato soup mixed with a can of beef consomme soup. I learned the recipe from my mom because I remembered my mom making it for a progressive dinner in the late ’70s and I thought it represented a super sophisticated flavor of soup—it was tasty. I served the soup with an assortment of cheese, crackers, and summer sausage—we still are cheesy people, it’s true. I wish I had thought to take a picture of Kathleen’s face when she came home and saw this beautiful tree in her living room—it’s a good thing there is no photographic evidence of my face. I’m sure it would have terrified our children. I am not exaggerating when I say she was speechless—yeah, speechless.
I don’t really recall what gifts I gave her that year—there may have been a mixtape of holiday favorites-- basking instead in the satisfied glow of introducing her to the joy and delight—delight/dismay—that can be found in a lovely decorated Christmas tree. I am fairly certain an angel earned his Christmas wings that night—or tarnished halo…
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